Living in My Dream
by HeartKel
Summary: Warning:Not a fic where someone randomly falls into Tortall,miraculously missing trees and rocks.Rachel,a neglected child,finds her way into Tortall,where Raoul,Kel and Alanna takes her in .But Rachel's much more than that as they will soon find out. RR!
1. Prologue

**Living in My Dream**

Summary:

Rachel has everything a girl could ever wish for; money, friends, protection and unlimited freedom. Or does she? As the daughter of a Cabinet Minister in Canada, Rach has more opportunities in life than most 13 year olds. Yet, while she might have money, her parents put heavy restrictions on what she is to buy. She might have friends, but they're only putting up with her to look good in Society's eyes. Her protective bodyguard, Lars, and her maid, Anna, were the only ones whom Rach felt cared about her well-being. In a feeble attempt to assassinate the daughter an important political figure, she escapes this life of misery, lies and restrictions, leading her to the kingdom of Tortall. What adventures awaits this lonely, neglected girl in the wide realms of Tortall?

Disclaimer: 

I have multiple names; Tamora Pierce, Meg Cabot and J.K. Rowling. Note the dripping sarcasm. Therefore, I am not the people who wrote the following books: all of the novels based in Tortall and Emelan, The Princess Diaries, and Harry Potter. All characters except for a certain Rachel Reeves, her parents, her maid Anna, and Jeannette belong to these authors.

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Prologue:

Miserably, a young teen sits slouched in the passenger seat of a Mercedes-Benz. No, the car does not belong to her. It doesn't even belong to the bulky man driving the vehicle. The car is her father's, and Rachel Reeves is on her way, along with her bodyguard and companion, Lars, to a dinner party hosted by one of her father's colleagues. Why, you ask, would a young girl of thirteen be in attendance of a political dinner party? It is her father's scheme. In order to attempt to break a small political deadlock between two powerful parties, her father is counting on Rachel's cleverness and wit to charm the leader of the opposition party. Rachel sighs, wondering if there was ever a time her father saw her as anything but a tool of obedience. Probably not. Even her mother neglected Rachel, the life of parties and alcohol taking her over. The most Rachel could ever remember her mother saying to her would usually be said over and over:

FLASHBACK

"_Now Rachel, darling, I want you to be a good little girl, act nice to your father's friends, and please, fix your hair. It looks as limp as grass."_

END FLASHBACK

It was what her mother said to her all the time, before taking Rachel's hand and leading her inside grand houses, only to be swept away by petty, beautified ladies who insisted on stealing her mother away for 'a little chat'.

Rachel sighs heavily again, then looks out of the corner of her eyes at her life-time companion. Her maid, Anna, once told her that ever since the moment she was born Lars had been assigned to protect Rachel for life.

"From what?" Rachel had asked. "Who would ever want to hurt _me_?" But Anna had just shaken her head and continued to straighten Rachel's room. It was only later on in life, Rachel learned that a band of radical renegades were after the political party her father led. They wanted to destroy the goals and dreams of the party, because it they did not benefit to the members of the band. Lars was there to make sure no harm ever came to Rachel, even if he had to put himself in the line of fire.

Rachel shifts restlessly, then winces. Her woolen undergarments and dress Anna had forced her into dug into her skin and scratched at her mercilessly.

FLASHBACK

"_It's not as if people will turn to stare at me!" she protested. "I'm ugly enough as it is!!!" _

However, nothing would budge the stubborn maid. _"Your mother pays me to insure that you look your best in public, wherever you go."_ And that was the end of that.

END FLASHBACK

The only thing Rachel had ever gotten away with was forcing her limp hair into rollers. Her mother could sigh as much as she wanted, and Anna could plead, whine and bully until the end of time, but even her father understood the pains of beauty, and did not want to distress his daughter with an agonizing life like that.

FLASHBACK

"_I don't care if you think that Rach would look better if Anna curled her hair, or brushed on powder, if Rach doesn't want that, then it won't happen. I don't want anything to distress Rachel, especially when we _need_ this allegiance,"_ was his retort.

END FLASKBACK

Rachel had inherited her father's rich, black hair, which hung limp and straight. Her mother's pure azure eyes stared out from her straight-cut bangs, and a prominent nose sprayed with freckles suggested a frank personality. Her full lips and strong chin are often overshadowed by her plain looks, and the ridiculously ruffled dresses her mother forces her to wear all the time are the penance of her life. Although these differences cause Rachel fade out in a crowd, after some time in her company, you could tell she makes a great companion and a loyal friend.

Sadly, Rachel's sunny dispositions are often over-looked by her two companions; Clarisse and Jeannette, who are also daughters of the leaders of important political parties. They are the only young ladies her parents had ever allowed her to socialize with.

FLASHBACK

"_Perhaps, over time, your affection for them will be subtly introduced to their parents, and we might pass this bill after all!"_ her father often said.

"_They are nice, respectable young ladies, each of our class, so it would benefit you to socialize with the likes of them"_ was her mother's excuse.

END FLASHBACK

Assumption has led to the idea that this was exactly the type of conversation that had passed between Clarisse's and Jeannette's parents. This had to be the only reason the girls had ever put up with Rachel. Pretty, popular and snobbish, they, and their companions often overshadowed Rachel in any parties or functions they had been forced to attend together.

Drawing herself back into reality, Rachel quickly glances out into the gloomy depths of night. Some time ago, it began to rain. It had come up to the point where Rachel could not see past the next lamp-post. Lars had tensed up and his driving had become jerky as he rounded the corners, trying to inconspicuously drive as fast as the speed limit would allow. Suddenly, a loud bang echoed throughout the trees, coming from behind them.

"Get down. We are under attack, so I _need_ to be ensured of you safety. And don't come up until we reach some cover," Lars growled out before he pushed Rachel down to the floor of the car, her seatbelt removed in a practiced gestured. Rachel squeaked. Why were they under attack??

"What's happening?" Rachel tried to scream over the sounds of screeching cars along the road, swerving around corners. Apparently, Lars hadn't heard her, or chose not to answer. All of his concentration was placed into ensuring both of them that Rachel reached some sort of shelter, a safe haven; it was quickly becoming apparent that they would never make it to the dinner party. Rachel, the bright student she was, realized this fact a while after Lars had.

"If we can't each the party, where _exactly_ are we going Lars?" The question was out of her mouth before she realized that Lars could not answer, as he would need all of his awareness to be able to ensure that she was safe. Adrenaline began to pump through her veins, a burning sensation that clutched at her heart and fed the flame that kept Rachel slogging through these dreary days of her pitiful life.

'My life is already in ruins. I am being led through life by parents who couldn't care less about me, even if they tried. I have no friends; my only companions are Lars and Anna, and there's a good chance that one of them could die tonight. I wish I could rebel against my _parents_, against my so-called-_friends_, against the _world_. I want to _break out!_' she thought, hands clenched, her form curled up, allowing her as much room as possible. The car swerved around a fast corner, and nearly skidded off the road. Lars soon gained control and continued to speed along the country road.

'I _tried_ to rebel quietly; but releasing my soul into my music isn't enough!' Rachel thought angrily, wishing, for once in life, that she was in _control_.

"Lars, are we being pursued on ground, or by air?" Rachel heard herself choke out. She couldn't handle the pressure of the thought that she might die; she just _had_ to know!

"Vehicle," Lars ground out before he swerved to avoid a head-long collision with another car. Or so it seemed to Rachel, who could just glimpse parts of the outside world, if she rested her head against the passenger seat. She then realized that Lars was driving on the wrong side of the road.

'Why ever is Lars driving on the wrong side of the road?' Rachel wondered, before she realized from all the noise someone was kicking up from the direction they had come from that her pursuers were also driving on the wrong side of the road, in a feeble attempt to get into a better position. A position to do what, Rachel did not want to ponder over. Whenever her pursuers switched to the opposite side of the road, Lars made sure he switched sides first. This continued on for several minutes until they appeared to be nearing a structure that loosely resembled an abandoned warehouse. Seeing as this was the only building for miles, near a road where cars passed every ten minutes, Lars made the quick decision to stop at the warehouse, and bustle Rachel into a safe corner, as it was easier to defend Rachel this way than being pursued on the open road.

As Lars swerved the vehicle onto a rutted dirt road leading up to the ware-house, Rachel squeaked in surprise, before moaning in pain. The rutted road had jostled Rachel badly, her head striking the area underneath the dashboard, rendering her unconscious. Lars had made the fatal mistake of glancing towards Rachel, to verify her health status. In between checking Rachel for her vitals, Lars' arm shifted, swerving the car into the path of a huge willow tree. The noise caused by the impact of a head-on collision with the tree, going 120 mph, reached their pursuers. They sent one man to do the job of checking for vitals. The man, a sloppy assassin, decided to check Lars.

'For surely,' he thought, 'if the huge bulky man could not survive the impact, then the little girl would have surely been crushed.' Upon reaching Lars, the assassin discovered that while Lars was unconscious and breathing, his breathing was labored, and the colossal man was slowly dying. To put him out of his misery, the assassin selected and wrenched a sharp, metal bit protruding from beneath the driving wheel. By efficiently jamming the bit of metal through Lars' throat, he succeeded in killing the loyal bodyguard. Returning to his companions, he reported both of them dead. They drove away, greedily anticipating the reward they would receive. If they had sent an assassin who was not lazy in his or her work, they would have discovered that although Rachel was unconscious, she was not dead. She was, however, slipping into a coma, so deep, that doctors, for five years, failed all attempts to bring Rachel back into this world. If they had bothered to clean-up after themselves after crudely murdering Lars, then the old farmer who lived in the area would not have immediately dialed 911 upon reaching the crime scene. At precisely 11:59 sharp, it was confirmed that Rachel Reeves, daughter of the most important political leader at the time, was in a deep coma, while her faithful bodyguard lay dead from an impact that bent the ancient massive willow tree until it touched the ground.

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A/N: Noooo! Don't give up on me yet! I promise that this isn't the kind of story where some person falls out of the sky, miraculously dodging all trees and rocks, falls into Tortall, ends up having more power than Alanna, Daine, Kel and Aly, and eventually saves the whole of Tortall! This fic actually has a plot!

Please, take pity on me, it's my first fic. I know it sucks, don't waste time telling me _that_, tell me how I can fix it)

If you press that pretty purple button at the bottom, and send me a review, you get COOKIES!! (Don't worry, Sparky hasn't nibbled any. Honest!)

Now: REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 1

**Living in My Dream**

**Disclaimer:**

Wanna hear the funniest joke you'll ever hear??

Hear it is:….

I OWN TORTALL! AND MIA! AND HARRY POTTER! w00000t!

Ha. Haha. Hahahahahahahahaha……

-shrugs- I found it funny…-mutters-

So, I own NOTHING (-tear-tear-), except Rach, her parents, her maid Anna, Jeannette, and Lady Aralene of Fenrigh. sighs And, I own my muse, Meathead the Second. Or, as he likes to be called, MH.

MH: -waves- Say hello to me in your Pretty Review! -waves harder-

MH: By the way….Kira has forgotten to tell you that this story takes place in Kel's squire years. Actually, this takes place in her first squire year.

On with my story!

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**Chapter 1:**

The sentry gasped. A crumpled figure lay in the shadows of the old willow trees. She; for it could only be a girl, appeared to be battered thoroughly. Her arms and shins had numerous scrapes and cuts, her head appeared to be slightly swollen around her temples, and one of her ankles was definitely twisted. Her dress looked as if she had been rolling in fresh mud, and couldn't be bothered to wash up afterwards. Her hair looked to be mangled with sweat, and blood. In fact, to a person from our world, we would suspect foul play, a car accident at the least. But this isn't our world. This poor, raven-haired girl was about to receive help. Maybe it would be better for both her mental state and her physical health if people, more sane than the gallant rescuers coming her way, had found her first. He clambered back onto his horse, and galloped as quick as his mount would allow him to, heading back in the direction he had come from.

"….and, there was that time when Milord over here, tripped over some poor old dear's dress hem. He went sliding across the floor!" a young man guffawed. He looked to be of Bazir descent, most likely in his late teens.

A dark-haired, blue-eyed man, wearing an armband with a Sergeant's insignia stitched into it, answered the first.

"Oh yes," he grinned "he went sliding across the room, and ended up with a pretty view underneath the skirts of that new lady, who had just been introduced to court that day. What was her name again?"

"Ahh….I believe it was Lady Aralene of Fenrigh. You know, the prissy, self-centered one? She was around 15 at the time, and had an attitude worse than her sister, Donna?" The first man grinned as the entire company, save three people nearer to the front, roared in laughter, recalling the beating the man had received afterwards. Had it not been for the King and his Champion, Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak would have ended up as mince-meat.

The three at the front, who had not laughed at the story Qasim and Dom had related to the troop, were miraculous people, who had accomplished a lot, each in their own way.

Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak, Commander of the King's Own, along with his Second-in Command, Lord Flyndon of Whitesford had taken it upon themselves to take on a certain page, as a squire. Keladry of Mindelan was a very determined person, not afraid to work, and eager to please. At that moment, Flyn and Kel were trying to conceal their smiles behind hands as Raoul muttered to himself. Snatches of words from a conversation Raoul appeared to be having with himself could be heard by those closest to him. Mainly, Flyn and Kel.

**(A/N: winces I know I got Flyn's name wrong, I just don't have Squire with me. Review and tell me the correction, so I can change it!)**

"..deserve…. will slave….no balls…..Fenrigh…" This went on for the better part of the hour, until the noise of a galloping horse reached their ears.

"Milord! Milord! I've spotted something of interest a bit to the side of the road, about a mile away!" An excitable sentry had come up upon them, galloping at full speed. Raoul perked up immensely. Deciding that Third Company needed a break from relating all the horrible things he had ever done to his newly-made squire, he led the way west, in the direction his sentry had appeared from.

Fifteen minutes later, Third Company found themselves surrounding what appeared to be a girl wearing a muddy, woolen, pink dress. They thought nothing of the dress, for any commoner in these parts spun wool for clothing, but they were apprehensive of the condition they found the girl in. Many were equally apprehensive of the two items close to the girl's form. Then again, most people would be startled to find damaged and battered girls, lying unconscious next to lethal looking instruments.

"What_ happened_ here?" breathed Flyn, as Raoul stooped closer to investigate the girl. Kel stood by, in case he was in need of assistance. Lerant, who felt snubbed by this girl squire who had taken over his role of attending Raoul, stood guard, wearing a scowl.

"Hmmm…seems harmless enough. _Ler-ant_! Would you mind if she rode saddle with you? We'll need to ride fast, and I don't trust anyone else to keep her in saddle." Raoul explained, dusting his hands as he stood up. He reached for the waterskin Kel held out, having recently been filled in the stream near-by.

Lerant nodded grudgingly. Anyone who had known the lad before Kel arrived new that he was still sore about the fact that Kel got the title of the one who attended Raoul. Few soldiers moved out of the way, allowing Lerant to lift the limp girl into his arms. He carried the figure over to his horse, who pranced impatiently, longing to be One with the wind once more. As soon as he moved out of the way, Raoul ordered all but his Sergeant back to their horses. He had found an adventurous mission at last; one even someone as powerful as the King could not object to. After all, only Third Company of the King's Own was equipped for this kind of emergency.

"Kel, come closer. I want you to have a good look at these devices…instruments…tools._ Whatever_ they are, we need to figure out a way to transport then to the nearest fief. Flyn, you should go check up on the boys, and the girl. Conduct a field check-up; I have a feeling that our friend might have a nasty concussion."

Kel obeyed without another word, taking in all details. The first object looked harmless enough. It appeared to be some sort of sack, except small in size. About the size of her Knight-Master's helmet. It was a soft purple color, which would have matched the pink dress the strange girl was wearing, had it not been covered in dirt. There was a short strap, of the same color and material, attached to two ends of the sack. A metallic band of stitching, with a piece of metal attached to it ran between the strap of material, and seemed to effectively enclose the contents of the sack, so nothing would drop out.

The second object, however, looked very complex and intricate, something a powerful mage might be able to accomplish. Kel speculated it was made of a long piece metal, which had been hollowed out, and bent in a certain angle. A bit of metal protruded from the inside of this angle and attached itself to both ends. A hinge-like device had been cleverly hidden by this protruding bit of metal. Shifting to a new angle, Kel could see that a cylindrical shape seemed to be lodged in the larger part of the hollow, bent metal piece. Kel shuddered; she had a nasty feeling that if someone bent the protruding bit of metal, pressure would force whatever was lodged in there to come out. Of course, Kel didn't test out her theory. She didn't have a death wish upon her!

The weapon (for she knew something as lethal looking as this could only be a weapon) looked like it was made to be shot from a close and a far range. It looked like the type of weapon an assassinator would value; a swift, clean-killing weapon. The person, if done proper, wouldn't realize they were dying until it was too late. Kel shuddered; she had come close to death more than once, and did not wish to repeat the experience until she was actually on a battle field. She didn't think their "friend" was as innocent as she appeared to be.

"Well?" Raoul demanded. The gleam in his eye unnerved Kel for a bit; she could almost believe that her Knight-Master would turn this whole escapade into a full-scale adventure. Not that Kel would mind; it would almost be a relief from the constant border patrol in the West.

"Sir, I believe that the purple item, made of…velvet, I think - might be a lady's satchel. I-"

"A what?"

"A lady's satchel. My sisters each have one, though none could compare to this one. They carried around various cosmetics and face paints in it. Occasionally, a small mirror."

Kel blushed, her Yamani mask undone. She could remember another item that ladies often carried around in their satchels, but she had a feeling that if she voiced her thoughts outloud, they would both be embarrassed. Actually, she had no idea if Raoul knew what a sanitary napkin was, but she didn't intend to find out.

"The last item…I'm not sure. I definitely do not recall ever seeing something of that design, and it is definitely a type of weapon."

Raoul took one last look at the weapon. "Just as I had thought. I'm glad you have a keen sense of danger. I believe a friend of mine calls it '_Women's Intuition_.' ," Both Kel and Raoul shared a smile.

"Well then, my squire, I would like you to carefully, _carefully_, take this weapon, and place it in the lady's satchel. When our friend wakes up, we shall have a discussion. I might even dispatch a messenger from a fief, asking for Numair." Raoul speculated, standing up from his former position.

Kel fumbled with the metal bit on the lady's satchel, until it slid open smoothly, like magic. Kel held in a gasp as she reached for the weapon. Warily taking hold of the part farthest from the metal hinge, she slid it in the satchel, not bothering to take into inventory the items inside the satchel. As she stood up, stretching out the kinks from her spine, she wondered why a commoner would have something as expensive as a lady's satchel. She doubted even the Queen had a satchel as richly made as this one.

Running back to the horse she was currently riding, Hoshi (who was a gift from Raoul, given to her the day he had taken his squire), she placed the satchel gently behind her, where Jump was supposed to sit. Another officer had offered to carry Jump to the nearest fief. Which reminded her of a question she had been meaning to as Raoul ever since he mentioned it?

"Sir? What fief is the closest one that we can reach before nightfall?" Kel hid her feelings behind her mask. She hoped, she wished that it wouldn't be-

"Why…I believe that Mindelan is the closest fief. Isn't that great Kel? You'll get to see your parents again!" beamed Raoul, honestly thinking he was doing a favour to Kel.

Kel groaned. Great. She was going to see her nephews and nieces again. She only hoped they had matured a bit from the little ones she was used to.

"What? What did I say?" Raoul asked Lerant and Flyn. They shrugged.

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**A/N:**

Thank you to all those people who reviewed! You each get a cookie!)

**PsychoLioness13**: -shamefaced- I know. It's just the way I felt about my work. But I changed the summary! Thanks for the advice.

**Erlina Silverstra:** -sighs- I know…that's something I must work on. Hopefully, I will never come across a story in which I need to do this, ever again. Thanks for the advice, though!

**Shadowgirll**: Really? -blushes- I never thought I was that keen on details. Thanks!

**Patronus99**: -shocked into submission- -flattered- Wow…Favorite Author, Favorite Story and _Author Alert_?? -shocked- Wow…and this was my first, feeble attempts at Fanfiction…THANKYOU!!!!!

Everyone else: **REVIEW**!

**Kira**:sighs Do we really have to go through this again?

**Meathead**: stubbornly Yes. I've never done this before!

**Kira**: Fine. Here's the deal, readers! If you give me a review, I'll give you a cookie! And a brownie!

**MH/Kira**: SO REVIEW!!


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